


Simple

by Ficlet-Machine (Wordsmith)



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Drabble, Ficlet, Fix-It, M/M, Mentions of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5445815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsmith/pseuds/Ficlet-Machine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sons of Anarchy, hurting people, riding his bike… to hell with it all. Happy lost Juice once. He wasn't the kind of guy to fuck it up twice.</p>
<p>Sometimes, it was just that simple.<br/>-------</p>
<p>Short fix-it drabble about Happy, and Juice, and how choices aren't always difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple

There wasn't a thing in the world that could have prepared him for that moment.  
The universe was playing with his sanity - it had to be. Those brown eyes went dark and empty on the concrete floor of Stockton penitentiary by the hands of a monstrous, rotten, walking sewer of a man. He was dead. They'd buried him. Shown him one last curtesy on behalf of years of brotherhood and buried him in a proper grave. He was dead, just like Happy's world was.

Execpt he wasn't.

Happy Lowman didn't believe in ghosts. He didn't believe in the dead returning to life. But now they were. They had to be returning. Because Juice was standing on his front porch, with the same brown eyes, the same insecure smile, the same shy posture that had always made Happy into an embodiment of fierce protectiveness.

Juice was here.

Fully prepared to grasp nothing but thin air and being forced to realize he'd been hallucinating, Happy reached out. And pulled a warm, solid body into his arms.

"Are you real?" he asked, voice gruff from not being used for days. Happy didn't speak to anyone but Juice's grave anymore. He hadn't been there for a good week now.

"I'm real." That voice. That voice could never belong to anyone but Juice. His Juice. His insecure, timid, clumsy, well-meaning, broken, overly emotional, underdog, survivor, Juice.  
It didn't matter how, why, when, where right now. He didn't care about shit right now, apart from getting his kid inside and never letting go.  
They lay closely together that night, Juice curled up like a kitten in his arms. They spoke only occasionally, about the people they knew, how things were now, what had gone down during the two years the kid had been dea- gone. Juice told him he couldn't stay. Charming would never be safe of a home to him any more. He could never erase all the bad stuff. But he wanted to see Happy again, and ask if maybe, if he wanted to, perhaps he would consider coming with him? Maybe? It broke Happy a bit inside to hear that Juice obviously didn't think he had a right to ask. They would have to talk about that sometime. When they'd settled a bit. Too raw a wound right now.  
Eventually Juice fell asleep, and Happy was left to his own musings. He didn't like that much. Never was one to like having to think too much. He weighed the options for a while, going back and forth between possible solutions. Pro's and cons of every alternative being carefully considered.

But in the end, it was simple.

Sons of Anarchy, hurting people, riding his bike… to hell with it all. Happy lost Juice once. He wasn't the kind of guy to fuck it up twice. 

\---

Chibs arrived at their new club house in the morning to find Hap's cut neatly folded on the table, a short note attached.

"Juice came back. Starting over somewhere nice. He deserves that. You make Tig Sarge again. He knows what to do.  
Thanks for everything. I liked Charming. I like Juice more.  
/Happy."

"Well, I'll be damned," the Scotsman muttered to himself. "Seems there's a heart in ye after all, Hap."

Oh well, nothing to do but call the others in and get on with business. After all, life goes on.

\---

Happy and Juice roared past the exit sign and on to the highway, leaving Charming in a cloud of dust behind them. They didn't look back. They had no reason to.

Sometimes it's just that simple.


End file.
